Inigo started forward again, but this time the dragon swooped down quite unexpectedly, pulling Saraf and Belial down with him. He didn’t even have time to shout out an order as they cut through the air at amazing speed and headed straight for the inhabitants below.
***
The Eastern city had been relatively calm recently, allowing the current occupants to go about their business without quarrel, which was the usual around these parts. Since this was the location of the Lord’s general council, there had been many disturbances throughout time, but so far nothing had raised quite as much commotion as the scene that was about to unfold upon the unsuspecting spirits. None caught sight of the two massive creatures or the object in tow as they came crashing down until it was too late.
Chaos erupted on the streets as the dragons touched down with thundering force, nearly toppling the chariot they pulled behind their flexible bodies. The chariot hit the ground on both wheels, luckily, but then began to teeter from side to side. No one glimpsed the man inside as he braced himself for the impact, covering his head and bending down. Most were too busy scrambling for cover themselves or uplifting their alert bodies into forced flight while watching in shock as the giant lizards rushed through, making no attempt to slow down, it seemed. Several beings did not get out of the way in time and were trampled by the leathery underside of the dragon’s feet. Some who had thought were at a safe distance were struck by a flailing tail or two. The beasts were running amok, and all anyone could do was stand there and gape at the scene, for most of them were of the second order and did not have the magical abilities to stop two such powerful creatures.
***
Belial finally looked up from his position and noticed what was happening. Knowing he had to stop the beasts from doing any more damage to the city, he looked around for the reins, which had been torn from his grasp when Inigo decided to take it upon himself to land prematurely. Belial cursed under his breath as he spied the leather rein abruptly getting tangled around Saraf’s large hind leg. He sighed and drew himself up at the front of his chariot. He was not fond of using simple magic, believing that it made one look weak to have to use magic all of the time to get what one needed, thus forcing him to retrieve the rein himself.
He pursed his thin lips together in a white line and steeled himself for the task at hand. Though the ride was quite bumpy he was confident enough that he could accomplish the stunt. He swung his left leg over the front of the chariot and then his right, making his back to the dragons. He gripped the chariot railing with knuckles as white as snow. He glanced behind him to see Inigo’s tail connect with a Cacodaemon, sending it sprawling into a pole and causing screams from the crowd.
“Damn it,” Belial said through clenched teeth.
He looked down at the rein; it looked hopelessly lost. His patience wearing thin, he shouted, "Saraf! Halt!” He was met with nothing.
He shouted again over the wind, hoping this time his voice would carry. The brown dragon reared its head up a bit at the command, and then began to slow down. Inigo, however, did no such thing as they were coming dangerously close to the Grand Council Building standing a mere mile away. The force of one dragon was enough to keep the chariot racing along.
“Steady, Saraf,” Belial eased.
He let go of the chariot with one hand and reached for Saraf’s tail. At that moment the chariot hit another bumpy patch and nearly caused Belial to lose his balance, clutching the cold metal before steadying himself moments later. He then reached back and blindly groped for Saraf’s tail once more. Luckily for him, Saraf was the larger of the two dragons and his weight as he slowed caused the other to drop back a bit. Otherwise, his attempts at regaining control would have proved futile. Belial soon caught purchase of Saraf’s scabrous tail and hopped aboard, sliding himself with great effort toward the animal’s rump. Traveling at the current speed, it took all of Belial’s strength to hold on as the oncoming wind pulled at him, unforgiving in its force.
He flattened his body across Saraf’s massive back and inched toward the neck knowing that time was quickly becoming an issue. He moved faster in this position and was soon wrapping his hands around Saraf’s collar, which connected with the reins. Exhaling with relief, Belial glanced over at Inigo, who was currently puffing air in and out of his flaring nostrils from the physical exertion and frosty air. Belial shook his head in disgust and pondered whether or not to terminate the obnoxious dragon once this whole fiasco was over, then quickly thought better of it, since Inigo was one of the fastest dragons around and could prove useful in the future. He glanced ahead noticing the oncoming structure but half a mile away and closing fast. Gripping the rein hanging from Saraf’s neck, he ripped them upward, causing the dragon to rear up and release a guttural sound from its throat.
Saraf’s front legs rose off the ground momentarily as his reins were pulled, after which his body touched down again and halted in place. Inigo only got a few more steps before Saraf’s undeniably solid stance caused the connected dragon to snap backwards, abruptly. Inigo collapsed to the ground, panting and suddenly exhausted. Belial patted Saraf on the side of the neck from where he was sitting as a sign for the dragon to let him down. Saraf did not object and lowered himself down on all fours, much like a dog would. Belial slid down to the ground, with his suede boots landing with a slight thud. Placing a hand on his hip, he sauntered over to Inigo, who lay submissively several feet away. His tongue had lolled out of its slack mouth and his eyes were a bit more wild-eyed than usual, darting from side to side. The dragon did not move another muscle, however. Belial stopped beside his leg.
“That, Inigo, did not make me proud,” he hissed angrily as he issued a sharp kick to the dragon’s resting leg with a pointy boot. The dragon grunted in mere frustration rather than hurt and continued panting, no doubt wanting a drink after its exercise. Belial was close to fury at the animal’s indecent behavior toward him and had no intention of quenching his thirst.
“What’s the matter? Thirsty?” he asked, mockingly as he created a mirage in front of Inigo.
The dragon’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed as Belial extinguished the illusion.
“Then perhaps you should have thought better of your little stunt before you had pulled it, eh,” he said noting the disappointment on Inigo’s reptilian face.
Though he would not use magic to succeed in everyday activities, Belial had no qualms about using it to inflict torture upon another, gaining immense satisfaction from the pained looks he received from his victims. He smirked and walked off to untangle the reins, dusting off his clothes and smoothing his now untamed blond hair down about his head since it must look hellish from the blasted ride.
He heard the commotion around him as the various onlookers began to descend upon the scene and emerge from their shelters. Belial looked around to see creatures of numerous shapes and sizes lying injured on the ground behind him. He snorted at this predicament that was impeding upon his precious time and realized he was going to be late for whatever Lucifer had planned and bent down to untangle the reins from Saraf’s hind leg.
“So… What happened?”
Belial looked up from his kneeling position to see Druj standing before him. She was clothed in a form-fitting gown of gold and her raven hair was pulled halfway on top of her head, allowing the back curls to rest against her shoulders and arched back. Her dark eyes every bit as bottomless and enticing as he remembered. Belial flashed his most charming smile at his old acquaintance and replied in a pleasant voice, “Why, nothing. Whatever made you think something happened?” His tone was of mock innocence.
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the twenty or so injured demons that mark your path of destruction. Or perhaps the look on your face as you administered that kick to your beautiful pet, which was not one of rapture, but in wrath,” she answered, her voice as smooth as silk, causing Belial’s smile to widen into a lascivious grin at her flirtatious attitude.
“Hmm, is that to say that you
remember my expression during times of rapture, my lady?” Belial responded, remembering past times. When she merely smiled, he continued, “You been keeping yourself busy?”
“Of course, though I do miss our little trysts. Every now and then,” she said.
“Oh?” he responded coyly. “Your loyal subjects, they’re not good enough for you these days?”
“They are sufficient,” she answered, teasing. “Though my mind tends to wander to nights I shared with a certain pale-headed demon, during their affections.”
“Ah, and am I the one you dream about, my lady?” He whispered seductively, playing with the leather straps intertwined in his hands, never averting his penetrating gaze from her beautiful face, causing her to look away first.
“That would be about right, sir,” she answered as she turned back to look up at him. She slipped a long-nailed finger around the rein he was holding, brushing his cool skin with hers in the process. Visions of their past trysts came flooding into their minds at the moment their flesh connected. Within moments their memories were as sharp as ever, replaying their lovemaking behind their eyes. Lips were kissed, breasts were fondled, and moans were wrenched from their bodies as they each relived their fondest recollections. She sensed he was quite eager to take part in her game again and smiled mischievously at this before deciding that it was best to put it off to another time. Reluctantly taking possession of the reins, she leaned in a bit closer to him and asked, “Do you want me to take Saraf and Inigo to their posts?”
He straightened at this question and held his head higher, “Yes. You are the only one, other than me, whom they trust anyway,” Belial answered. Druj gave a slight chuckle and began to back away as Belial spoke again, “And would you be so kind as to fetch Uphir? See how many people here need treatment. I’m late for a meeting.” The demoness nodded and walked off, leading Saraf by the reins, with Inigo close behind them, padding along on sore feet.
Belial watched them round a corner. Druj turned to give him one last flirtatious look and an inviting smile before disappearing around the bend. A reminiscing smile playing upon his lips as memories of past times well spent in the company of Druj came flooding back to him. Memories of her flushed cheeks pressed so warmly against his as her voluptuous body rocked with his to a unified rhythm only they could find. Recollections of how sweet her lips had tasted and how musky her personal scent was as he buried his head between her thighs came back to him. How he ached to rekindle that passion. Their history together was long, dating back to just after the Fall. The time when many had sought solace in whatever manner they could find. Not all of the agonizing spirits here fed off of the pain and turmoil of others. Well, they did, but not constantly. There were such things as passion and lust down here in the infernal regions. And Belial found out for himself that Druj, one of the Daevas, was one of the prime instigators of these emotions in males. He nearly fell under her spell the first time they crossed paths and if that would’ve happened, he dare not think where he might be now. But that was eons ago. He had learnt his lesson since then and was careful to keep the upper hand wherever and whenever a deadly sin was involved.
He shook off his whirling memory and remembered his task at hand. He began advancing toward the large polygonal-shaped building, seeming out of place amidst the dark atmosphere surrounding it, with its cream-colored walls and white doors. As he reached the doors he heard a faint whooshing noise and turned to investigate, just in time to see Charun land on the walkway, his gray leathery wings creating a faint squeaking noise as they flapped. His bare feet touched the ground gracefully as he hopped before gaining his balance. Long claws extended from each toe as well as each finger, of which he had four on each hand. His flesh was the color of stone and was weathered from spending so much time in the lower regions where the furnaces were located. His pointed ears extended above his bald head and his hooked nose resembled that of a vulture. His eyes were a deep shade of yellow and glowed brightly in the faint light. He walked slightly hunched over with his knees slightly bent, no doubt from the weight of his wings, which when fully spread measured an impressive seven feet from end to end. His arms swung slowly at his sides, a bit long for his body but well toned.
“Ah, Charun,” Belial exclaimed as the demon of death made his way to him at the doors, “How’s tricks?”
Charun grinned at this, revealing pointy front teeth beneath his dark, dry lips. “I can’t complain.”
Belial nodded and then looked him up and down. “No hammer today?” he asked, referring to the hammer that Charun used to finish off the souls he tormented.
“No, it’s too heavy to carry in flight. Besides its being cleaned, it got a little… messy with a pederast earlier.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood at the entrance to the Council building. “Lord says I’m to wait out here until he calls me, you should enter though, you know he gets quite impatient.”
Belial turned to enter the building and then stopped. “Did Lord Lucifer mention what this is to be about? I mean, why summon me to a Grand Meeting, after all this time?”
Charun just looked at him, expressionless, and replied, “I’m sure the Lord wants to explain that to you, himself.” He fell silent once again and stood guard.
Belial half-shrugged and wondered what Lucifer could possibly have in mind as he stepped through the grand entrance to the Grand Council Building.
Chapter Three
Belial stalked through the unusually bright corridor of the age-old building toward the entry to Bael’s chamber. He visibly winced at the lily-white walls standing on each side of him and walked more quickly toward his destination. Though there were no windows, it was quite illuminated. Several statues adorned the lengthy hallway, positioned between each candelabra branching from the wall. Arrow-wielding cherubs perched on pillars, their motionless faces frozen in a contorted mask of sorrow and lament. Belial passed them stiffly and wondered why they did not move as decorations should, they were so life-like. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch one to find out if these agonized figures were merely stone, or perhaps they were once-living second order angels captured by a demon and brought here to experience a taste of the agony in this world that was created by their good master, into which Belial and his many cohorts had been forced. He glimpsed one's eyes as he passed by, they stared blankly out from their emotionless realms, unblinking, unseeing. If there was life in them, Belial could not see it. Not on the surface and not within.
“Hmmph,” he shrugged and walked off.
He found it hard to believe that Bael, the head of the infernal powers, would willingly reside here, among this luminosity and dowdiness. All you need now is a floral pattern for your trim and pink drapes, he thought sarcastically to himself. He sincerely hoped Bael’s personal quarters held a more stylish décor than the rest of the building.
***
Meanwhile, inside the secluded chambers of the infernal powers head, the four ancient monarchs of Hell’s regions sat respectively in their corners along with Adramelech, the Grand Chancellor, awaiting the arrival of their Lord and the head of ceremony. Bayemon seated in the west end, his black form secluded in the deep shadows only to be given away by his white eyes which hardly ever blinked, and could blind those of less power if they gazed into them. Zimimar was at the north end, not so much seated as he was positioned upright, considering he had no knees with which to bend to a seated position. He was held up by a thick, strong serpent-like tail of a dark green shade, which formed at his waist and made up his lower torso before ending in a large rattle, much like that of a certain snake. His mortal-like head was surrounded by shoulder-length waves of the deepest black. His eyes, encompassed within his handsome skull, featured elongated pupils amidst speckled gray and yellow irises. Gorson, king of the south, sat across from him in his own box. His black-feathered wings spread and contracted as he stretched out. Large horns resembling those of an ox, protruded from the sides of his angular head. A light layer of ruddy fur covered his en
tire animalistic body. Everything about him was, in a word, sharp. From his pointy nose and chin to the talons on his crooked fingers to the pointed hooves connected to his massive legs. If ever there was a false, fantastical description of the devil, Gorson fit it perfectly. Finally, Bael, monarch of the eastern region, sat in his rightful place across from Bayemon. Bael resembled a frail old man in physique. His white hair, straggly and unkempt, receded on the top part of his head. His body, though one could only see his head and hands as the rest was covered at all times by a dark blue cloak, was thin and his skin wrinkled. His face, however, was constantly morphing. When in a pleasant mood, as now, his face resembled that of the elderly man. When consumed with wrath, it would take on the features of a feline, spawning a cat-like nose and eyes with sharp fangs protruding from his upturned mouth. In yet another turn, it could contort into something crustacean, creating a shell-like armor to protect itself and large antennas from the top of his head. He sat with his hands clasped firmly in his deep lap as they all sat in uncomfortable silence.
They didn’t need to wait long, though, as a chaotic twist of wind developed and took shape above them near the vaulted ceiling. It funneled into a black cloud as it lowered itself to the floor below, resembling a menacing tornado on its hell bent path. No sooner did the tip reach the ground, did the whirling gust of air vanish, leaving only the silhouette of their Lord in its wake. Lucifer surveyed his subjects with immediate disappointment as he saw not everyone was present at his arrival. He glanced at each king in their positions, and then looked about the whole room with contempt.
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